


After the Lonely

by theonealone



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mentions of Elias Bouchard/Jonah Magnus, Mentions of Martin Blackwood, Mentions of Peter Lukas, Post Episode 159 - The Last, Tape Recorders - Freeform, The Magnus Institute (The Magnus Archives)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24158419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonealone/pseuds/theonealone
Summary: What if Jon hadn't rescued Martin from the lonely?What if nothing had gone to plan and he returned home alone and forsaken?What if everyone abandoned him, and he had nothing at all?What if...?
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan Sims
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	After the Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has some pretty heavy depression in it, as well as implied suicide at the end. I wasn't exactly sure how to tag this, especially seeing as this is my first time posting, but a warning to all who may not be in the mindset to read this kind of thing. It's a lot of angst, basically.
> 
> Anyhow, feedback would be appreciated, and I hope I didn't hurt them too much (even though I almost definitely did)

Jon had tried his hardest. He had done everything he could, but nothing had worked. The Lonely really had gotten Martin, and Jon hadn’t done anything to stop it. 

Martin had gazed into his eyes, but they weren’t seeing him. Martin seemed to stare straight through him, and even though they were together, Jon knew that neither of them had ever felt quite so alone. 

Dragging himself to his feet was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do. Turning around and actually leaving was even harder. Navigating through the Lonely was difficult and time-consuming, and even once he was home, the fog never really left him.

Being trapped in the Buried and the Lonely couldn’t even compare to how he felt now. Then, he had had a purpose. Now he had nothing, and no one. He had never been so completely and utterly alone.

Before he had had the others around him, even if he hadn’t had their support. Now he had lost Martin, Georgie and Melanie refused to talk to him, and he could only pray that Daisy and Basira were alright. Tim and Sasha were dead, and he had no one.

He had survived the Lonely, yet somehow he was now more alone than he had ever been before. 

Jon refused to return to the institute. He refused to face reality, he refused to see Elias, he refused to return to the archives and carry on with business as usual. He wouldn’t. He shouldn’t. He didn’t even know if he could.

Eventually he began to hunger once more. The haze of the Lonely was slowly replaced by the crystal clarity of the Beholding. Jon was no longer sad, or terrified. At some point his anguish had been replaced with anger, sharp and bitter, filling every aspect of his broken life.

Anger at Peter and Elias, anger at Helen, and Gertrude, and Melanie and Georgie. Angry at Tim and Sasha, and god forbid Martin. Angry at himself.

How could this have happened? How could any of this have happened? How could he have lost everyone, when he had tried to protect them? How could everything have gone wrong when he tried to do everything right? How could he fix it?

For a few days that’s all he thought about. He waited and listened and watched and searched his own mind for answers that never came. 

The pain of not knowing after so long spent with all the answers tore at him, but he fought against it. It was better than the alternative. Jon was sure that if he gave in, much more would go wrong, making the situation impossibly worse. He knew that taking more statements would slowly tear his humanity to shreds, and he was determined to cling on for as long as he could.

Without anyone to help him, without Martin to help him, there was barely anything to hold onto. 

Jon tried to ignore this, but as his need increased this fact became steadily more apparent. 

Eventually he began to cave. Thoughts of statements invaded every minute of his day, and he grew weaker and weaker.

He was almost at the point when he was considering a trip to the archives, hoping to sate his hunger without hurting anyone further than he already had. He was so very close.

Then a door appeared in his bedroom. A familiar yellow door, warm to the touch.

The hunger that begged to know what was behind the door was irresistible. The need to know what lay on the other side seemed to take root inside him, and force him to open the door.

It led to the institute. Of course it led to the institute. After all, didn’t everything ultimately lead to the institute?

There at the end of a long corridor was the familiar sight of the archives. He took a deep breath, and stepped through the door.

Arriving in the archives, he felt like he was coming home. But home wasn’t all he had wanted it to be.

The archives were a shell of what they used to be, devoid of the life and laughter that had once filled the room. Everything that made them warm and comfortable was gone, leaving only piles of paper and tape recordings. It was cold and lifeless, and it was exactly where he belonged.

He forced himself to walk towards his office and opened the door. The room was exactly as he had left it, abandoned statements still strewn over the desk. An undrunk cup of tea sitting beside his laptop. 

The memories of pain and sadness, memories of everything that Jon had lost came crashing down upon him. He collapsed under the weight of it all, sinking into his desk chair and letting out a dry sob.

Once he was seated, he gazed out his door, which still stood ajar. The familiar view overwhelmed him once more, and he buried his head in his hands in a vain attempt to compose himself. 

When he looked up again, he saw a tape recorder. 

He hadn’t seen one since the Lonely, and had thought that they had decided to finally leave him alone. But apparently not.

Before realizing what he was doing, he automatically clicked the record button.

He stared at the red flashing light. When nothing happened he reached out and clicked the recorder off again.

It immediately flicked back on. He clicked it off again, but it was no use. Every time he tried to turn it off, it turned back on again. 

After it clicked on for the tenth time, he finally realised what it wanted. It wanted a statement, and Jon got the feeling it would leave him alone until it got one.

He glared at it before taking a deep breath and composed himself, realising for the first time that there were tears streaming down his face.

“Statement of the archivist, regarding his time in the lonely, the death of Peter Lukas, the disappearance of Martin Blackwood, and the destruction of the Magnus Institute.

Statement Begins.”


End file.
